Monday, November 17, 2008

Je ne veux pas travailler

I spoke to two people today. The first was my father who saw I had just signed onto Skype. Shortly after, my phone rang. It was one am his time, we talked about various things, mostly updates about my siblings. The other call was from my girlfriend who had worked all day, and was really just calling me back.

I didn't leave my house today. It is a Monday. Don't worry, I didn't call in sick. It was a make-up holiday for the Saturday school. I woke up at four pm. It is three thirty in the morning now. I don't want to go to work. I don't want to eat. I only want to forget and so I smoke.

Hello was the first thing I said, and my voice was hoarse. I thought I may have been losing it. The last thing I said tonite was "of course not, goodnight". Then I cried.
I know this happens whenever I quit smoking. Like a broken heart, the sun streams in through the bars of this cage. Something inside of me can see the invisible, ghosts of the future. I'm seeing something.

It must be wonderful to be nice, but i've never known it.

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